Time Flies and Button Flys
by r2metoo
Summary: Castiel isn't sure about how to button his new jeans. So Dean helps. A lot.


**This is a deleted scene from my fic Jigger of Djinn. You don't have to read it to love the Destiel feels that I enjoy writing, but if you haven't read, then the set-up is that Cas used all of his mojo saving Dean from some Djinn, and he was forced to shower like a human and change clothes since his Holy Tax Accountant-wear got bloody. Garth offered some of his own clothes, but Cas is having a bit of trouble with the button-fly jeans. Dean is more than happy to help him get them up. Um...I mean...wait, no, that's exactly what I mean. **

Cora walked up to Dean and said, "I think Castiel needs you."

It was an innocuous statement; nothing to it really. But the way she said it had Dean on high alert. Cas needed him? For what? Was he okay? Had the kid said something to upset him? Was he worried about Gabriel? Or maybe worse, was there a repeat of the whole Naked-And-Covered-In-Bees thing going on?

With trepidation, Dean handed his pancake batter and spatula over to Cora and approached the little mudroom off of the kitchen. Castiel, perfect, innocent, adorable Castiel, was standing barefoot (!) in the middle of the dark room wearing two very tight shirts and holding up a pair of jeans that practically looked painted on. Dean's mouth went dry at the sight.

Castiel's body was long and lean and all sinewy muscle, something that until now only Dean really knew, but it was currently on display in the most delicious way from his tight pectorals down to his thin but well-proportioned thighs.

Dean didn't make a conscious decision to move towards his angel, his feet just propelled his body across the short space, his hands moving automatically to those thin hips and then up to the long, lithe stomach that just promised flexibility. It was almost sinful, this body.

"God damn, Cas," he breathed, pushing his hands under the shirts and feeling the soft, tight skin beneath. "Why do you have to be so damn hot?"

A ghost of a smile passed over Castiel's lips. "I am as always glad that my vessel pleases you so much, Dean."

Dean leaned in and rubbed his nose up the long expanse of Castiel's neck, his lips touching down every now and then as he made his way up from the collar to his ear. "Oh, it pleases me, baby." His hands were now going downward back to Castiel's hips, his fingers ghosting over the waistband of his underwear and then to the opening of the jeans. "Don't tell me you let the kid see you like this," he murmured, letting his fingers play with the little stripe of hair just below Castiel's belly button.

"N-no," Castiel gasped. "I covered myself when I requested her help."

"Oh?" Dean murmured against his neck, then kissed his jaw. "What did you need help with, exactly?"

Castiel's breath hitched as Dean's tongue connected with that spot below his ear, followed shortly by his teeth. "I…uh…" and then Dean pushed his body against Castiel's and the angel lost his train of thought completely.

It was always amazing to Dean, the way he could get Castiel to this state, incoherent and flushed and just gorgeous, body pliant under his hands, mouth open to him, skin warm against him, tongue sliding against his, hands urgent and grasping at his clothes. That tightly controlled being, the angel of the lord, the soldier of God Himself was coming apart under Dean's ministrations and it was the most freaking powerful thing he could do. Or maybe ever would do.

"What did you need help with?" Dean asked again, his eyes laughing at Castiel's blank expression.

"Dean, these trousers…they appear to be…enhancing…this experience…"

Dean finally allowed himself to chuckle. "I imagine they're just getting you tight in all the right places, Cas." He ground himself against Castiel again. "…all the right places, baby…" Dean sank to his knees and assessed the situation. The jeans were tight, incredibly tight, but he was sure Castiel could button them over his sweet hips. But his boxers were all bunched up and needed to be smoothed out before buttoning could commence. And there was the matter of that other part, the part that was threatening to breach the waistline of those boxers and come peeking out at him.

Dean placed a worshipful kiss just to the inside of Castiel's hip bone, letting his teeth graze the flesh as he peeled the jeans a little lower.

"Shit, Cas," he breathed. "What would I have done without you, man?"

Castiel gave one of his patented tight-lipped smiles that was meant to convey how naïve Dean was of Angel matters. "Despite what my brother felt at my injuries, my life was in no real danger."

Dean looked up at him. "Yeah, but Gabriel is a big brother, like me. Don't ever tell him I said this, but he was right. If it had been Sam laying there with that wound and Gabriel who had put him in danger, I'd be searching the earth for an Archangel Blade."

Castiel gave that little smile again and ran his fingers through Dean's hair. "I forgive you, Dean," he said solemnly.

It was times like this that Dean really appreciated Castiel. Dean knew in his head that he wasn't responsible for every horrible thing that ever happened to his family, but his heart always placed the blame squarely on his shoulders. Castiel's simple acceptance of the apology and subsequent forgiveness did more for his battered, nearly nonexistent self-esteem than any affirmations from Sam or Bobby ever had. Those three words, "I forgive you," were more important to Dean sometimes than "I love you." They carried more weight, for whatever reason.

Dean lifted Castiel's shirts and kissed tenderly over the spot where he had been injured. The skin was now smooth and blemish-free, but he would never forget where the large, rusty, jagged blade had punched into his angel's stomach, just below the ribcage. All because of Dean's stupid heroics.

Carefully, worshipfully, Dean removed Castiel's length from his boxers, planting a kiss just to the left of it. Castiel gasped and clasped his hands to the wall behind him to keep from grabbing Dean's hair and shoving himself down Dean's throat.

"Impatient?" Dean teased, palming his angel and stroking.

"It's been several weeks since we have had a chance to copulate. I'm not entirely sure I'll be able to last."

Dean smirked. "Then don't."

Castiel's breath hitched as Dean took him completely into his mouth. When Dean sucked, Castiel let out a whimper that was incredibly unangelic, and then he groaned as Dean moved his lips around the tip.

"Dean, I can't…"

Dean hummed, willing Castiel to let go as he bobbed against the angel, suckling and licking the way he knew he liked it. Castiel began to pant, his breath hitching as he tried to be quiet. Dean grabbed his ass, massaging through the tight denim, moaning against Castiel, forcing the angel to come hot and quick in his mouth.

Castiel sagged against the wall, his knees hitting against Dean's shoulders as Dean held him up and swallowed him down.

"You're so fucking hot, baby," Dean murmured, righting Castiel's boxers.

Castiel wiped the sweat from his face with his shirts, giving Dean an even better look at his tight chest. "You'll be the death of me some day, Dean."

Dean smiled. "I hope so."

In the kitchen, someone dropped something and it clattered making a loud noise, and suddenly Dean and Castiel were snapped back to reality. They were in a mudroom, just a thin wall away from a whole group of people who probably really didn't want to hear the amorous interlude between them. He looked up into Castiel's dark blue eyes and was sure the word "later" was spoken between their soul bond. He could feel it radiating off of the angel. "Later." "Love you." "Need you." "Feel you." "Want you." Words they never had to say to each other.

Dean stood up and gave Castiel a sweet, chaste (but slightly long) kiss, his hands working to smooth out the slightly loose boxers (his hands lingering as he tugged at the fabric just below Castiel's rear because attention to detail was something Dean was just all about, yo), then pull up the sexy tight jeans. Then he turned Castiel around and showed him how to button the placket, taking one more swipe at the bulge he was restraining.

"Remind me to send Garth a fucking fruit basket," he said finally, after one more press against Castiel's backside and one last kiss to the back of his neck.

"If food is the appropriate way to thank someone for the gift of clothes, then I believe an entire side of beef may be in order," Castiel replied breathlessly, his cheek pressed against the wall, his profile standing out pale and beautiful against the dingy paint. Dean loved the curve of his lip as he gave another of his almost-smiles. He didn't even try to resist pressing his lips to that curl, his hands still stroking Castiel's hips and sides, their bodies still pressed closely together.

"Hey, you idjits setting up camp in there?" Bobby called through the door, but clearly not brave enough to open it. "Get your asses out here, breakfast is ready."

Castiel turned in Dean's embrace and smoothed his hands over Dean's chest before gathering his shirt into his fists and pulled him forward for a more amorous kiss before he broke away with the slightest smirk.

They went to breakfast, dressed and presentable, and Dean could only think about how a near-death experience, while hard on brothers, was really great for one's sex life.

**Yeah, I know this one wasn't incredibly smutty, but there will be another that's going to be much heavier. **


End file.
